This Newer, More Magical, World
by Green Kneesocks
Summary: Cannon divergent after Too Far Gone. The prison falls, the group is scattered, but they will survive and learn that the world is a magical place. After the dead getting up and walking around witches and wizards should be nothing
1. Carl in the hospital

Magic was real. It took Carl surprisingly little time to wrap his mind around that fact. Dead people had been getting up and walking around, that helped with the whole believing thing. Magic being real was something Carl could easily believe. This hospital on the other hand…this was new.

He was in a place called Royal Hospital number four. He was sitting in an impossibly white bed in an impossibly white room. There were no windows, just moving landscape paintings. His arms had an IV in it, though they called it something different, and his side was heavily bandaged. Music played from what the wizards had called a 'wireless'. It was something with a lot flutes. Very soothing.

Judith agreed. She was in a little crib next to him. The name on the crib said Judith Lorraine Grimes. The name on his bed said Carl Richard Grimes. There were symbols on the sides of their names that the nurse…no healer. That was the new word, healer. Yes the healer said that those symbols meant parent and child. Carl didn't bother correcting them. His father was dead.

He also didn't reiterate that he was only fourteen and much too young to have a baby. They said that was the age of majority now. They said the queen said. There was a queen now. There was a queen. Magic was real. His father was dead. The prison had fallen. He had been bit. He had been found. He had been found by a witch. Magic was real. Hospitals were real.

For the past week Carl and Judith's world consisted of four white walls, two gas lamps, one bed, one crib, one wireless, and a stack of books. Everything but the books were provided by the hospital. The books were provided by the nurse…no healer's apprentice, Toffee.

There was a knock at the door. Judith stirred but continued to sleep. Carl put his book down, face down, so he didn't lose his place. This wasn't his book. He didn't want to dog ear the pages. It was about medicine, no, potions. They were potions now. He felt his hand got o where his knife would normally be. The wizards took it away when he entered the hospital. Most survivors were mad, they said. Mad meant crazy now.

"Wotchuh?" said a female voice as the door opened. Carl relaxed. It was just his new friend, Toffee. Toffee Crème Pettigrew. She introduced herself, days ago, with her full name. Full names were important now.

"Watcher." Said Carl. She giggled with her hand over her mouth. It was cute.

"I've got some moments before my tea's over, thought I'd come 'round and see how you and your daughter were doing." Said Toffee playing with clasp of her over cloak. Yes, that's what that was called. It was the symbol for healers.

"It's good to see you again." Said Carl. It genuinely was. He felt a sort of warmth around her, like a tingly warmth. She had called it spiritual resonance and said he had an affinity for her kind. He didn't know about all that but he did like being around her.

"May I enter?" asked Toffee

"Sure." Said Carl. Toffe walked over to the bed, her dress rustling as she walked. It was blue, like her healer's cloak, and looked like something out of those PBS shows his mom used to watch.

"How's the bite?" said Toffee standing at the foot of his bed. Carl sat up straighter, the blankets pooling around his waist. All he had on was what the wizards called combinations, a sort of undershirt and underwear cross. He felt very covered but she averter her eyes.

"I can't even feel it." Said Carl feeling somewhat self-conscious of his less than dressed state. They had given him clothes but they said that he didn't have to get up to descent, their phrase, until the bite closed all the way or the crown found him a placement, whichever came first.

"So no pain?" said Toffee as she pulled a vial from within her cloak. Bigger on the inside, she said.

"None. None at all." Said Carl. It hurt when he was bit. He had been scavenging food for Judith. She cried. Three came out from a pile of junk, of rubbish, and he was out of bullets. He got bit. It hurt. The fever came. It hurt worse. It had hurt so bad he wanted the bullets back so he could put one in himself. That was not his finest hour.

"You alright? You look kind of peaky." Said Toffee as she handed him an unmarked vial. He reached over and took it from her, his hand brushing hers. He felt a spark, kind of like the static electricity experiment he did back in school. Less shocking though, more warm.

"Just….I'm fine." Said Carl

"Well take that anyway, it's a calming potion I made for you." Said Toffee her eyes now on the sleeping baby. The poor thing had almost died. She wondered if baby Judy missed her mum. Toffee didn't really miss hers but her mum was still alive. That was selfish, wasn't it?

"Healer Breedlove didn't say I was getting new medicine, I mean potions." Said Carl

"Well he doesn't know I'm giving you this. I mean he won't be cross, I think he won't be cross anyway, and I figured you'd need it. Most survivors have trouble keeping cool heads, I've noticed. It's a long brew too so it should last a while." said Toffee her eyes flitting between him, the baby, and the floor.

"Thank you. For everything I mean." Said Carl before taking a long swig of the vial. It tasted like mud almost. He gagged.

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't have much time to do something about the taste of it, altering potions like that isn't easy work. This was just a set it brewing sort of thing. I also got you some clothes." Said Toffee pulling from under her cloak what looked like a miniature trunk like the ones his parents kept their wedding stuff in. Toffee put it on the floor and flicked her wand. It grew to a normal size and swung open. Carl stared.

"Sorry…I forgot you weren't a-"

"I've read about that. You fold the space around it to make it seem smaller but the rest of it is on another plane of existence. Or is it the place between planes?" said Carl rapidly. He had never been the best student, he even had to go to special math after school, but he found these magic books fascinating. Mainly because it seemed like something out of fiction.

"Wow. Most survivors just think it's some kind of religion thing." Said Toffee. Most of them would either be silent like mannequins or rant and rave. Usually about God. Sometimes the devil. It was odd though, obviously the staff wasn't demon touched. They looked normal and ate cooked food for goodness' sake.

"You're a survivor too." Said Carl. Toffee shrugged.

"Not really. I had already left our home in India when I was eleven to go to the healer's school and I was posted to the new colony pretty much right after Galatea made herself queen. I didn't even see the fall of London. My older brother, Beadle, says it was awful though." Said Toffee

"You don't look Indian." Said Carl before he could catch himself. Was that racist? He knew a white kid from South Africa when he went to camp back when he was a kid. White people could be from India, right?

"Well I'm not a native, obviously. My family moved there after the First World War when our country splintered off from the old crown. What about you? When did you come to the America colony?" said Toffee. She was looking at him and then the bed, in that order.

"My mom's….my mom's family came to America from I think Germany and my…dad's is….was…from England I think. Like you." Toffee shook her head.

"Oi, if you want to be a full citizen you can't call us English. We left them ages ago and took India with us. We're, and that means you mister, are Remordierians. This is Remordiere." Said Toffee. Carl nodded. He was American, he knew that, but was there even America anymore? The government was gone now. Her eyes were still shifting.

"Do you want to sit on the bed?" asked Carl. Toffee covered her mouth. She did. She wanted to sit next to him and hold him close until he got better. He needed her. He needed her to take care of him. He was handsome too.

"Or not." Said Carl quickly. He didn't want to offend what was now his only friend and his guide to this new country.

"I…I want to." Said Toffee. She slid her hands against the back of her thighs, her dress rusting as she smoothed it down, and sat on the foot of his bed.

"There's clothes for you. In the trunk I mean. Good ones. My older brother, Beadle, says Victory clothes, the ones they give you, are boring and useless. He made these." Said Toffee. She gave her wand another flick, this one more forceful, and a parade of folded clothes placed themselves on Carl's lap.

"Wow. You didn't have to ask your brother to make these for me. Thank you." Said Carl. He felt the fabric of a colorful shirt, a sort of red and blue woven together. Soft but tough. The buttons were shiny and cool in his hand. There was what felt like an internal pocket. Carl slipped his hand in up to the wrist before he pulled it out. Deep. Much deeper than space should have allowed.

"Oh no, he didn't make these for you. They're my nephew's. He's just out grown them." Said Toffee

"Really? Wow, big kid." Said Carl. He looked over to Judith. She was getting bigger. They gave her clothes and showed him how to dress and change her their way. She would grow up. She would outgrow those clothes.

"Pie? No, Pietro's like twenty one or twenty too now. He's got his own kids actually." Said Toffee playing with the slightly scratchy hospital blanket.

"How old are you?" asked Carl

"Fourteen. Fifteen in March. You?" asked Toffee. He looked like he was her age and it was certainly in his file. Not that she wanted to go digging though survivor files. Too depressing.

"Fourteen too." Said Carl. Wow. So she was his age. She was his age and already working in a hospital and helping people. She was making the world a better place. He wished he could. He wished he could heal people and help make the world better. He wasn't going to sit around playing farmer all day. He wasn't going to pretend to lead but hide behind walls while the people who wanted to hurt him roamed free.

"Have I got something on my face?" asked Toffee. Carl was looking at her, really looking, like she was a microbe under a microscope.

"No, I was just thinking." Said Carl

"Bad thoughts? I could get you another calming potion, I've got a cauldron at home full of it." Said Toffee

"No, about you." Said Carl. Toffee smiled.

"What about me." Said Toffee

"You help people. You're my age and you're out here helping people. I was just thinking that if I could do the stuff you do, not just the magic, I could be something. I could be something and help people. I could have….where I was people were getting sick….if I could have helped them….if I could have helped them we could have had more fighters. If we had more fighters we could have….we could have won." Said Carl, his voice softening to a whisper at the end. Toffee impulsively took his hand.

"I could teach you." She said

"I read the books, I can't do magic. You're either born with it or not." Said Carl

"No, but you can make potions. We need more potioners about. I'm bronze stirrer certified, I could probably…no it's mad." Said Toffee

"What's crazy?" asked Carl

"Well if you don't have a posting yet I could probably just tell them….I mean if you wanted to….I could be your posting." Said Toffee

"You'd teach me to make potions?" asked Carl

"Yeah, if you'd like." Said Toffee. Carl looked at her, and then her their hands. He was alive. He was alive and he could do something with his life. He couldn't save the people at the prison. He couldn't save his father. He couldn't save his mother. He could save others though.

"Thank you, Toffee, thank you for everything." Said Carl. Toffee laced her fingers with his and made a sort of humming noise. Carl didn't know why but he hummed back. Soon they were humming together, but not just humming. The warmth was back, and it was getting warmer. Her held eye contact with her. He felt…not just warm but…strong? He felt something entirely new. He moved his other hand and the blankets jumped towards him.

"Oh! Oh…oh I am so sorry." Said Toffee jumping to her feet and jostling the crib which held Judith. She began to fuss.

"For what?" said Carl. That was…good. Indescribably good.

"I resonated with you. I shouldn't have done that. That was wrong. I shouldn't have touched your soul like that." Said Toffee turning on her heel to leave

"Toffee…it was nice." Said Carl

"It was intimate. I barely know you. Now it's like I know all of you." Said Toffee. She felt his fear, his pain, his hope, his melancholy, all of it. She had taken him in and he had taken her. That was just for covens.

"I liked it." Said Carl softly. Judith was really fussing now. He wanted to get up but needed a moment to collect himself. That was….well it made him feel a lot of things and one of those things was very apparent.

"I liked it too." Said Toffee softly. This was a patient. She was his healer's apprentice. Well now he was her potions apprentice. What was the matter with her? She was still deep in thought when she picked up Judith and rocked her.

"Thanks." Said Carl. He felt a momentary stab of fear when Toffee picked Judith up. He shouldn't have. He knew that Toffee was there to help.

"She wants her father." Said Toffee. Carl didn't correct her. Toffee handed Carl Judith just as the wireless announced the changing of the hour.

"I'll…I'll ask about the…apprentice, thing. I'll ask. I've got to go now. My tea's been over for ages." Said Toffee as she quickly exited the room. Carl held Judith and watched the door long after she left.


	2. Rick and Michonne on the road

The signs were everywhere, the ones pointing to Terminus. Rick didn't care. He walked the road with Michonne at his side. No Carl. No Judith. No Daryl. No Beth. No Glenn. No Maggie. Everyone was gone. They were gone because of him.

"It's cooled off some. That should help. I saw more of those signs at the crossing." Said Michonne. They followed the tracks. They walked towards Terminus. Why? Because they needed someplace to go. They needed a purpose. She had been in Rick's shoes. She remembered fog walking, surviving not living. She wasn't going back there and she wasn't letting him go back there.

"Doesn't matter." Said Rick. It really didn't. What then? What if they got to Terminus? They'd, what, live there until it fell? Make some friends and watch them die?

"Hey." Said Michonne, stopping and putting a hand to his chest. He kept walking and pushed her arm away.

"There's no point." Said Rick flatly.

"If there's no point then why are you still walking?" asked Michonne. He stopped.

"What the hell do you want me to say?" said Rick quietly.

"I want you to say that there's a point." Said Michonne. He stared at her.

"Why? What's the point here, Michonne." Said Rick

"There needs to be one." Said Michonne. Rick shook his head.

"I thought there was a point. I thought we'd all grow old together, I thought we'd build something together. We didn't." said Rick

"We did." Said Michonne

"We didn't. We kept on trying to make it like it was before. It's not like before. Every time we find something, every time we have something, it gets taken away. This place'll just be the same." Said Rick

"But it's still a place. Rick, you need to get out of the fog." Said Michonne. He had been like this since they escaped together. The governor had almost beaten him, choked him into submission, when Michonne ran him through. They had escaped on foot after finding Judith's bloody bassinet. Carl, they hoped, had escaped on the bus. When they caught up to the bus not only had it crashed but it was obvious that there had been people there already. Whoever was there had ransacked the bus and killed everyone. Carl was not amongst the dead.

"Maybe this is just what the world is now." Said Rick

"No. The world is not this. You're a fighter Rick, fight this. Fight this for them." Said Michonne. Rick was a fighter. He had fought from death itself. His heart had stopped, he had stopped breathing, and hadn't moved in over a day. Michonne wanted to put him down before he turned, to keep wandering on her own, to let the fog take her. She wanted to but she didn't. Just as she thought Rick was turning he began to move and speak. It was a miracle. That was the only explanation. This was a sign that she, that they, needed to keep going.

"They're dead, Michonne, dead. Our people are dead. Everyone's dead." Said Rick flatly. The bus was full of corpses. The road was full of corpses. The world was full of corpses. Somewhere in that sea of corpses were his son and daughter.

"No, not everyone. I'm here, and you're here, and I think you're here for a reason." Said Michonne. Rick shook his head and kept on down the tracks. They walked in silence until the came to a road. Michonne stopped them.

"There, these wheel marks are fresh." Said Michonne. Thin wheels, not cart wheels. Hoof prints too.

"People?" said Rick softly

"Looks like a lot of them. They've got horses too." Said Michonne. This could be bad. Bandits. Psychos. People with numbers.

"Don't follow 'em." Said Rick. He wasn't ready for people. He didn't want to know if they were friend or foe. He didn't want anything to do with them.

"There could be some of ours." Said Michonne

"Probably won't be. We don't have the numbers to take them." Said Rick. Michonne wanted to argue but didn't. Reasoning was sound.

"Let's avoid them if we see them." Said Michonne. It was too risky. The two of them against however many people there were. Rick was right. They continued walking, making sure to stay hidden. They didn't see any people but avoided the houses, mostly. It seemed as though when they got too near the houses something inside of them would tell them to stay away. They saw signs though, hand painted ones, as they left. They said things like 'Now entering the wild zone'. Someone's idea of humor. Rick was still silent. They walked and walked, leaving the road and following the tracks. They walked until the came upon another crossing, but this one had people. Wordlessly they ducked into the thick brush.

"Whaddaya 'spose is there?" they heard a man's voice say

"Don't know, mate, but it's out of our survey area. The crown said only the habituated zones and they're done." Said a woman's voice

"We should at least give it a look 'round. Might be friendly." Said the man

"No, they've probably got those gun things. Mark it on the map and report it to the Imperial Legion. Let the bloody soldiers sort it. It's their job anyway." Said the woman

"We'll never make the reconciliation committee with that attitude." Said the man

"Won't be makin' it if I'm dead now will I?" said the woman. There was a pop and they were silent. Rick and Michonne waited a moment for coming out of the brush. The people were gone. There was no sign of them.

"That was…weird." Said Michonne. There were other words to use but weird came to the forefront of her mind. She had glimpsed them before hiding. The long skirts and cloaks. She had never seen people like that before, not even when she ran in artists' circles.

"Where'd they go?" asked Rick. No tracks. It seemed like they had vanished into thin air.

"I don't know. I don't like this." Said Michonne. She took Rick by the arm and headed deep into the brush. They ran and didn't stop. Whoever those strangers were it wouldn't be safe to stay and find out what they were about.

Through their wanderings they spotted more signs of human habitation. Foot prints. Cart prints. Signs in an odd form of English. The sounds of dogs barking. Children laughing. But every house they came to they turned away from. It was as if something was pushing on their very souls telling them to go away. Eventually they found the tracks again, and there another sign. 'Glenn, go to Terminus.-Maggie'.

Despite all the strangers around Rick and Michonne carried on their journey, filled with the hope, small in Rick's case, that they could find some of their people.


	3. Glen's New Group

The sickness had passed, eventually. Glenn was still weak but he didn't feel like death anymore. Physically that is. Emotionally he felt like he had been put through a meat grinder. Maggie was gone. Everyone was gone. It was just him. Well, him and these people. Glenn chuckled silently to himself as he rode in the back of the military convoy. It could have been a videogame.

There was the tough as nails drill sergeant, the hot fan service girl, the nerdy comic relief, and the token reformed teammate. He was the everyman hero out to save the girl. This was his fucking life. He looked down at the picture of Maggie. That was all he had left of her.

"Hey, you'll find her." Said Tara putting a hand over his. He looked up at her. It would have been so easy to blame her for everything that had happened but he didn't have that sort of luxury. He didn't have time to be pointing fingers. He needed to spend every waking moment of his life looking for and finding Maggie. He needed her. Without her what did he have? Who did he have?

Abraham eyed the new people wearily through the rearview mirror. The guy looked like trouble. Crazy trouble. His girl was most likely dead but he didn't accept that. Poor idiot was liable to get himself killed searching for a dead woman. He knew that feeling. He knew the depth of feeling that could make a man lose his mind with grief. He had been there, until he found his mission. They had to get Eugene to D.C. and reverse this. He could be the man that saved the world.

Rosita didn't want these people with them. They had lost many people already, good people. She didn't want to see anyone else die and this man was going to get himself killed. She hoped that he could join them in their mission. The woman too. They needed to take Eugene to D.C. and fix this. They just had to keep moving. Like Abraham said. Just keep moving. As long as they had a destination the journey would be worth something. There would be more to life than just surviving.

They generally stuck to the back roads as they traveled. The main roads were either too clogged, to destroyed, or crawling with people. The back roads had people on foot. Small groups. Groups they could take if they needed to. They passed nobody yet despite abundant signs of life. Tracks mostly, but also noise. Music. Laughter. Dogs, but not wild ones. Dogs with names. The names of dogs could be heard, called in strange accents.

"We should stop, I think there's people around here." Said Tara

"Negative. We do not stop." said Abraham

"You stopped for us." Said Tara

"We do not stop." said Abraham

"But you did stop." said Tara

"There was just the two of you. We do not know their number or capabilities." Said Abraham

"Maybe they have some food or something." Said Tara

"If they did they wouldn't share it with us." Said Rosita

"Do we have anything to trade?" asked Tara

"Our rations are not so low that we need to make an unscheduled pit stop. We stay the course." Said Abraham

"We need to keep going. We need to find Maggie." Said Glenn, quietly, like a mantra. Eugene looked like he wanted to say something but smartly held his tongue. It would do no good to tell the man the exact probability of her survival. If Eugene started spouting off about how she was mostly dead then Glenn and Tara would leave, thereby reducing the chances of his survival.

"Maybe she's at that place on the signs." Said Tara. They had passed signs at railroad crossings for a place called Terminus. It was, appropriately, at the terminus of the railroad tracks. Who knew if it was even still there in existence? It could have been overrun or taken. It could have burnt to the ground.

"Yeah…..maybe…" said Glen quietly. Abraham made a noise of disapproval.

"What part of we do not stop is so incredibly difficult to understand?" said Abraham.

"Asshole!" said Tara kicking the back window. Eugene made a noise between a gasp and a whimper. Abraham pulled them over and stormed out of the front seat.

"Who do you think you are?!" said Abraham

"I think I'm someone who's had a crap day! And the day before that! Actually this past week has been crap! I am someone who is trying to bring a little fucking hope and maybe, I don't know, redeem myself or some shit! I don't know!" said Tara. The week's stress had finally come to her. Leaving her home. The death or her sister. The death of her girlfriend. The death of Megan. The death of her father. Just so much death. The world was nothing but death. It stank of it. She had contributed to it. How could she have ever listened to Brian!

"In case you haven't noticed every day is a crap day! We can just make the day a little less crappy than the one before it!" said Abraham

"Hey." Said Eugene over the fighting. He heard something, some rustling from the field across from them. Rustling and a dog barking.

"Well we didn't ask you to pick us up in the first place!" Tara was shouting now. The rustling was getting worse. Eugene could hear voices now. Rosita could hear them too.

"Hey! Knock it off!" said Rosita from the passenger seat

"We gotta go!" said Eugene. Noises like that either meant the dead or people, both were equally dangerous. Actually, people were more dangerous because they could think, and run, and climb, and shoot.

"Shit! In now!" said Abraham. It was too late. A dog came running from the field, pursued by a group of the dead. Not enough to be considered a herd but a good number of them. The dog continued to flee, not paying their group any mind.

"Come on, come on." Said Abraham as he tried to start the engine. Being a year or so after the downfall of society certain things, like vehicles, did not work so well without the constant maintenance they needed. The dead began to grab at group, their stench perfuming the air. The dog had long run away, saved by the presence of larger prey.

"Just drive already!" said Rosita. Abraham bit back his tongue and continued to try and start the vehicle. It did, eventually, and they continued on the road.

"That, ladies and gentlemen, is why we do not stop." said Abraham smugly. Eugene nodded.

"I would like to share an observation I have made." Said Eugene

"Huh?" asked Tara. He looked over at her.

"That dog was a healthy weight, clean, and wore a collar." Said Eugene

"Lots of wild dogs have collars." Said Glen. The dogs were a big problem on runs. Most were half starved and were no longer man's best friend.

"Yeah, they escaped from people's houses and yards." Said Tara

"I will reiterate that this dog was well groomed and well taken care of. This road also looks to have been maintained somewhat." Said Eugene. It was true. It looked like the potholes had at some point been filled in. When this happened was unclear to the group.

"What are you saying? That we're near a settlement?" said Glen

"Yes that's exactly what I'm saying. I feel that making contact at this time would not end our favor and we need to get even more off the beaten path as it goes." Said Eugene

His point turned out to be moot as they drove further down the road. There, off to the side, were several wagon carts pulled over. A man stood in the road and waved them down. Many of the people in the group had swords. They all had sticks strapped to their arms too.

"Oi! You lot!" the man called out in a vaguely British accent. Looking at these people was like looking back in time. Long dresses, high boots, cloaks, and waistcoats.

"Jesus freaks or actors?" said Rosita. From the distance it didn't look like they had any guns or ranged weapons.

"I'm not findin' out." Said Abraham

"We should at least warn them about the herd." Said Tara

"Maybe they've seen Maggie." Said Glen

"We are not stopping." Said Abraham. The man put the stick to his throat and his voice called out loudly.

"Have. You. Seen. A. Black. Dog?" said the man, his voice booming across the country side. The people near him looked unworried at the sound. As they passed Abraham made a 'back there' motion towards the road.

"There's a herd coming!" said Tara as they passed. She got many thank yous in return. She blinked back tears as a little blonde girl waved to her. She was Megan's age, just about anyway.

As they drove they did not see any more of the strange people. The group also chose not to dwell on them beyond as subjects of curiosity. They had kids. They were loud. There was a herd, well many walkers, on the road behind them. Their odds weren't good.

The group's odds were though. They were headed to D.C. and they were going to save the world.


	4. Lizzie in the city of steel and glass

Lizzie couldn't remember much about her life. She knew her name was Lizzie. She knew she liked pecans. That was all she knew. Well she also knew the names for things and how to speak and eat. Not go to the loo, for some reason. She kept trying to disrobe from the waist down, as if her drawers didn't unbutton. She was a resident of royal hospital number six, near the city of steel of glass. She was there, right now, the city of steel and glass. The hospital made her itch. The people made her itch. She was a prisoner there, wandless and powerless. Her wand. What did her wand look like? She couldn't remember owning one. She sat perched upon a statue near what was some sort of shop. It was tall, dizzying even, how it reached the heavens. Around her the dead milled. She closed her eyes and pulled herself in before pushing her soul, her spirit, out to touch theirs. No real soul, just the echoes of one. The desire to consume. To be alive again. No, to be truly alive. They weren't bad creatures, just different.

"Go away." She said as they tried to bite through her boots. She said it forcefully, pushing her magic out. Not much magic, but magic the same. She had to say it thrice but they left her be. They were just hungry. She wished she had a box for them. A box? Yes, she kept mice in the box. Mice to feed them. Someone disapproved….

"Oh blast." She said. She almost had it, the ghost of a memory. A home. Pecans. People. A friend, a friend called Griselda. Not the girl from memory. No, a different friend. Yes her friend Griselda Gunderson. But something had gone wrong….something terrible had happened. She touched the scar on her forehead, under her bangs. Attacked?

"Hungry." Said Lizzie, more to herself. They weren't much for conversation, her new friends. No, they only felt hunger. They were alive. Not truly but alive. Changed. Different. Like her. Her eyes narrowed as she chose a destination. Another shop. Smaller. This one had bars across the front.

"Open." She whispered. The bars slowly parted. She smiled.

"I am there." She said. She felt the space of the world fold and push her. She disappeared from her perch and reappeared within the shop. She felt some of them around her and pushed them away. She needed to find something for tea time. Ah yes, packets of nuts. She walked over to the display and tore into a packet of pecans.

"Salty. Be sweet now." Said Lizzie. She repeated herself thrice before the taste changed. Honestly, who wanted salty pecans? She finished her pecans and walked to a glass cabinet. No, a cold cabinet. A….refrigerator. Oh yes, that was the word. She walked over to it and chose a glass bottle which contained sparkling water. It did not sparkle but sure did bubble. It had a faint lemon flavor. She savored it. She wanted to cool it but she felt a bit taxed. Perhaps a nap? She contemplated this before something passed over her, something big. She dropped her drink but halted the momentum before it hit the ground. What was that?!

"Where are you?" she asked after chugging the last of her drink. She pushed herself out as far as she could and felt something, no someone, pushing back. She was far, far outside of herself, and it hurt a little. She could feel the dead between them, not only the sea outside but the thousands which laid dormant. Well, they weren't dormant anymore. She felt a wave of fear hit her. Trouble. Someone was in trouble. But where?

"Must help." Said Lizzie. She was still pushing outside of herself, her soul laid bare for the world. She was hurting though, this was too much. She clicked her tongue quietly. She heard echoes, not hers. She clicked the echoes clicked. She paced. She could feel someone pacing beside her though there was nobody. She felt warm, very warm. Warm and strong. She felt her resolves strengthening and with this newly found strength she did the biggest jump she had ever had.

"What the hell?" she muttered. She was….judging by the buildings she was close to the royal hospital. The feeling was still there and very strong. She was in a room…yes it was a room. Not up too high. Lots of broken glass. Life in the closet. She ordered it to open. It moved but slammed shut before turning to a stone wall.

"Whoever you are, I'm warning you! I can do magic you can't even dream of!" said the voice. Male. Lizzie felt around. Just him and the dead. Lots of the dead. A sea of them outside. Agitated. Hungry. Angry.

"What're you hiding for? Just tell them to go walkabouts." Lizzie said. A stranger. A strong one. He sounded like….her? Like the staff at the hospital. But better somehow?

"You're the witch! Quick, look at the mirror beside you!" said the voice. Lizzie could still feel him. Hopeful and frightened at the same time. She looked towards the cracked mirror and saw, well she wasn't sure what she saw. He was a boy. Long black hair. Blue eyes. Pinched face. Tall ears. Blue waistcoat. Blue trousers. Cut on his face.

"That you?" asked Lizzie

"Yes. That's you? I mean what you really look like?" asked the voice

"Of course." Said Lizzie though she couldn't see herself. She kept looking at him. He was frightened. She wasn't. She looked at him and he looked at her.

"You don't mind?" asked the voice

"That you're hiding? Not really." Said Lizzie. Everyone needed to hide sometimes. She even hid. In the night. When she dreamt of flowers.

"No, I mean what I am." The voice said

"You're not going to try and eat me, are you?" asked Lizzie

"Only if you want me to." Said the voice with an odd tone. She shrugged.

"No, I like not being eaten. If you're some sort of cannibal I'm leaving." Said Lizzie

"Wait! Girl, don't go." Said the voice

"Why should I stay?" she asked. There was a book shop she had found. It would be nice to while some time away there. She could read English. It was English on the signs. Odd English, but English.

"Because I want you to." Said the voice

"Well that's not a good reason. I only came because I thought you needed my help." Said Lizzie

"I do, girl." Said the voice

"Don't call me girl. My name is Lizzie." She said

"Elizabeth what?" asked the voice

"No, not Elizabeth, just Lizzie. No surname either, at least not one I can remember." She said

"Why can't you remember?" asked the voice

"I don't know. Something to do with my head I think. What are you called?" asked Lizzie

"Berlioz. Berlioz Mandolin Black. Prince Berlioz Mandolin Black, son of Queen Galatea Black and the fey Puck, of Avalon." Said Berlioz. He even stood up and gave what was a polite bow. He expected her to be all 'oh my prince!' or something like that. That fake fawning people did now that his mother took the crown.

"Do you always have to say that when you introduce yourself to people?" asked Lizzie

"Yes, it's manners." Said Berlioz

"Oh. Well I don't care. Can I just call you Berlioz?" asked Lizzie. There was a pregnant pause.

"Sure, Miss Lizzie." Said Berlioz uncertainly. This was…different. Of course one could not always have manners, especially in these life or death situations.

"I'm not a Miss, I'm just a Lizzie. What are you?" Said Lizzie still maintaining eye contact through the mirror.

"….I'm half fey." Said Berlioz bracing himself for the inevitable look he'd get before she made her hasty exit.

"Oh, alright. I'm all human I think. Is that your home?" Said Lizzie. Berlioz shook his head.

"This? No…I live in London. Well I live in Potterhouse right now. I'm supposed to be touring the colonies with my aunt but I….people were….I went outside and got frightened. My magic kind of… it went mad….and I got hurt. Now I'm here." Said Berlioz

"Why not just go back?" asked Lizzie

"…too frightened." Said Berlioz quietly. Lizzie shrugged.

"There's not any reason to be. You can just tell them to go away." Said Lizzie

"They don't talk." Said Berlioz

"Not with your mouth, with your soul." Said Lizzie

"You pushed yourself out to me." He said

"You pushed out first." Said Lizzie

"Because I felt you pushing yourself out first." Said Berlioz

"Will you come out?" said Lizzie. It was odd talking to an image on a mirror when she could feel him coming from the closet.

"….alright." said Berlioz. The door turned back to wood and he came out slowly. Lizzie walked over to him, licked her hand, and rubbed it on his bloody forehead. He jumped back, a wave of warmth passed through her body.

"Wat are you doing?!" he said, he hand on the hilt of sword. She stood there, puzzled.

"They smell blood and you said you were frightened of them." Said Lizzie.

"Oh." Was all he said. His hand left the hilt of his sword. His coat covered it and it seemed to vanish. He took a step towards her. She cleaned his forehead. Once the blood was gone she continued to draw her fingers across his face. He closed his eyes and made a contented noise.

"You have a layer of fuzz on your skin. It's pleasant." She said. She drew her fingers across his face and towards his ears. They perked up and then sagged.

"Stop." Said Berlioz

"It hurts?" asked Lizzie

"No, it feels nice." Said Berlioz

"Then why should I stop?" asked Lizzie, her hand still on his ears. He shrugged her hands away.

"Because I've only just met you." Said Berlioz

"So? I think we're getting on." Said Lizzie

"Who are you?" asked Berlioz

"I told you already, I'm Lizzie. Is your memory as bad as mine?" said Lizzie

"No, I don't mean your name. I mean, like, who are you? A survivor? You talk like you're, you know, from the same place I am. High up, I mean." Said Berlioz

"I don't remember much before the hospital. I lived in the country, I think. Or a fortress. Someplace with pecans….pecans and flowers. I hate flowers." Said Lizzie

"I won't get you a bouquet then." Said Berlioz, chuckling. She just gave him that same perplexed expression.

"Never mind." Said Berlioz

"Can you use that sword?" asked Lizzie

"Yes, my mum taught me." Said Berlioz

"Can you teach me? If you do I'll teach you how to tell the dead to go walkabouts." said Lizzie

"Well….alright." said Berlioz. He wanted to say that he needed to go back. He wanted to tell her that he needed to with his family, that the world was dangerous, that he couldn't run off with some wild girl into the wild zone. He wanted to but he didn't.

"Brilliant." Said Lizzie, and it was. For the first time in what she could remember she had someone she knew, someone who was maybe a friend? Sort of. He was trustworthy, and he would teach her to protect herself. Then if whatever happened to her happened again she could stop it. No person would ever hurt her again.


End file.
